The Unhappy Ending
by Benji The Vampire Confuser
Summary: How far can you push someone, before they push back? How much can someone take, before they break? If you've ever thought about commiting unspeakable vengfull acts upon those who have wronged you, you'll know what I mean. If you haven't I suggest you l
1. Breaking Point

**The Unhappy Ending**

**By Benomy Snickett**

**Otherwise known as Benji: The Vampire Confuser**

* * *

I must state for the record, that I am not Lemony Snickett. Nor am I in any official capacity associated with his investigations regarding the Baudelaire Orphans and their troubles. This work therefore, is not actually part of the series of unfortunate events that plagued them, but merely one possible outcome of these matters. This is a work of Fan-Fiction. A term which here means: an amateur author working out his frustrations and exorcising his hostility onto a computer screen.

That being said, it is only proper that I warn you, that the story you are about to read, like the works of Lemony Snickett upon which it is based, is extremely unpleasant. If you are looking for a story that has a happy ending, you have come to the wrong place. However if you do a quick google search, I'm sure you can find plenty of Buffy, Harry Potter, or Alias fan-fics in which the hero defeats the villain, gets the girl (or boy) of his or her dreams, and lives happily ever after.

* * *

It has been theorized by those wiser than I, that everything in nature, has a breaking point. A stick can only withstand so much pressure before it snaps for instance. Some things merely take more pressure than others.

The human spirit, or mind, is no exception. A person can take only so much before they break. This break can take many forms. Sometimes the subject in question will fall into a kind of listless existence, blindly doing anything they are instructed to do without question, having lost all hope that life will improve.

Or they may snap. A word which here means, commit horrible atrocious acts that they would never have seriously contemplated earlier in their career.

We can only guess at what pressures may have caused the diabolical Count Olaf to become so diabolical to begin with. However there can be no doubt as to the cause of the Baudelaire children to break.

Count Olaf had won. With the fiendishly clever murdering of the orphans' newest guardian, he had secured his path to the riches he'd always dreamed of. He and one of his henchmen now drove off into the sunset with the captive Baudelaires trapped in the seat behind them. The back doors had childproof locks, an efficient way of keeping kidnapped children from escaping from the back seats of a getaway car.

Violet Baudelaire, the oldest of the trio, loved to invent things. In fact, she was exceedingly clever at it. One could always tell she was about to invent something when she tied her hair back with a ribbon. Had Count Olaf not been so confident in his victory, and glanced in the rearview mirror, he may have noticed her doing just this. As it was, he was taken completely by surprise when she reached forward, grabbed the driver's side seat belt, pulled out some slack, and wrapped it tightly around his throat, cutting him off in mid cackle.

Klause Baudelaire loved to read. It did not matter what the subject. He read anything he could get his hands on, and always remembered everything he read. Not too long before this moment, he had read a book on pressure points entitled "The Encyclopedia of Death Touch". Thus it was that he knew exactly where to strike Olaf's henchman, and with how much force to cause him to suffer a most painfull, lingering death. Which he did with about as much emotion as you would swat a particularly nasty mosquito, or perhaps a bee that had stung you.

Sunny Baudelaire, the baby, had only four teeth. With which she delighted in biting things. It was through her intervention that Olaf lost two fingers on his right hand as he tried to free himself from Violet's impromptu garrote.

As Olaf lost conciousness, he found himself thinking that he'd make an excellent ghost in a theater. And there perhaps I should stop. The Orphans recovered their senses, and went about their lives, vowing never to speak of that night again. A nice happy ending. Except for Olaf of course.

But you know better don't you dear reader. Sadly, instead of writing The End, I must instead say

To Be Continued…


	2. Continuation

**Continuation**

**A word which here means, chapter 2.**

Count Olaf could be called many things. Callous, selfish, sociopathic, egotistical, cruel are words that one would be perfectly justified in using to describe him. But stupid is not one of them.

Count Olaf is in fact, fiendishly clever. But he does have quite a good imagination, as any actor must have. Particularly if they expect to fool themselves into thinking they had talent.

Therefore, his mind immediately came to several possible explanations as to his surroundings once he awoke.

He found himself reclining in a rocking chair. In the upper hallway of a house. A strangely familiar house. It was in fact, the former home of the late Uncle Monty. That in itself was strange enough, but he also found himself once more disguised as Stephano. A large knife was clutched in one hand. Moonlight flooded the hallway.

As I said before, Olaf immediately came to several possible conclusions as to these strange events.

That he had not yet killed Montgomery and everything had just been a dream.

That he was dreaming now, still unconscious from Violet's assault.

And most horrifying…

This last possibility chilled his blood, though he was not a superstitious man. He dismissed the possibility almost immediately. Never the less, he was startled when the door to the room that had been the Orphans' creaked ever so slowly open.

Just in case possibility number one was correct, for a successful villain must take into account many possibilities, he played along.

"Do you have a hall pass?" he asked.

Silence. Dead silence. He felt a sense of Déjà vu, and waited for the door to shut. It didn't. Instead, it creaked open a little more, and Violet Baudelaire stepped out into the moonlight.

Or, was it Violet? He couldn't tell. Her hair hung down in such a way to obscure her face. She stood, facing the wall, showing him her profile. She was dressed in a simple white nightgown that came nearly to her ankles.

"Now now," Olaf said, grinning, though slightly nervously, "Time for all good little orphans to be in bed."

Silence.

Suddenly, with a jerky motion, she turned towards him, her hair still hiding her face. The effect was startling, and more than a little eerie. Did Violet sleepwalk? He didn't think so, but he'd always locked them into the room at his house.

With awkward, stiff steps, she started to advance. Slowly.

"Coming." She whispered. "Coming."

Olaf straitened in the chair, clutching the knife tighter.

"Coming to get you." She rasped, still advancing.

Dropping all pretense at being Stephano, Olaf glared. "Oh come now," he said, "I don't scare that easily."

"OF COURSE NOT." A deep booming voice echoed throughout the house. He nearly dropped the knife and knocked over the chair. "WHAT DO YOU FEAR DEAR COUNT OLAF? WE HAVE ALL ETERNITY TO DISCOVER IT."

"This is a trick!" he shouted at the ceiling. "But I am not fooled!" But he was trembling.

"NO TRICKS. NO TREATS. WELCOME OLAF. WELCOME TO OBLIVION."

Suddenly, Violet was before him.

"Everyone will suffer." She hissed, and threw back her head. Her eyes were pure black and blood poured from her mouth as she screamed.

Her scream joined with Olaf's as he leaped back, stumbling over the chair, and barely feeling the tranquilizer dart that hit his leg.

Klaus had read many books in his life. Among which were books on Hollywood makeup effects, how-to books on making blowguns, and do-it-yourself instructions on sound systems.

Violet had made the sedative. As a precaution, they had made sure the knife was fake. All this was designed to scare Olaf. And they had succeeded. Like Olaf, they began with trickery and disguises. And like Olaf, they would finish it, in the most final sense of the word.

To be continued…


	3. Finishing It

**Finishing It**

**A Phrase which does _not_ mean completing the story. Sorry.**

This time when Olaf regained consciousness, he once more found himself in familiar surroundings. However this time it was the surroundings alone that were familiar. Well, that and the faces of the three individuals who stood before him.

He was not in any familiar disguise. He was in fact, not even in his usual clothes. He was dressed in what had to be the most unfashionable, hideous ensemble he'd ever seen. Even by his standards. This blow to his vanity outstripped the fact that he was strapped into a sturdy wooden chair for sheer horror. It even managed to overshadow the chill he felt at the perfectly placid expressions on the faces of the Baudelaires. Even grins of sadistic glee, or smiles of contentment, a sense of justice being done would have been preferable.

"You, you monsters!" Olaf cried out. "How _dare_ you expose my magnificent-wait, what are you doing?"

It was Violet who did the talking as Klaus approached him with a pair of scissors. "Monsters? You really either have a lot of nerve, or are completely out of touch with reality."

"No! No I beg you!" Olaf screamed, to no avail. Klaus proceeded to give him not just a bad haircut, but with an electric razor, he shaved irregular spots into his already balding head.

"I'll get you for this." the count hissed. "I swear to you-"

"What will you do?" Violet countered. "Kill us? You were going to do that anyway." She approached him and looked at his right hand. Somehow with all he'd been through lately, Olaf had neglected to notice the throbbing ache there.

_Oh yes._ He thought. _The cannibal._ He hadn't been able to scream when the fingers were bitten off before. So he did so now. Melodically, and dramatically. He was still an actor after all. If he could move his hands he would have beat one upon his breast as he asked "Why God, why?"

Violet rolled her eyes. "Tell me Count, which hurts more? The clothes? Or the missing fingers?" The wound was looking rather nasty. And the smell wasn't any better. "Klaus has read many books on first aid. Klaus?"

"We stopped the bleeding." Klaus said. "But we left them mostly untreated. There'd be little point anyway."

"Wh-what do you mean?" Olaf stammered.

"Oh we're going to kill you." Violet said matter of factly. "Like you killed our parents. And Uncle Monty, and Aunt Josephine, and so many others. But mostly, like you did our parents."

"Your house is very flammable." Klaus nodded, picking up Sunny, who was now looking at Olaf hungrily. "I read books about torture, but we decided that this way was best."

Between Klaus' reading books on chemistry, and Violet's talent for inventing, they had concocted a compound that when ignited, would burn very slowly, but hot enough to leave nothing behind of the count, but ashes.

"Also I read several books about falsifying records. From your own collection as a matter of fact. As of a few hours ago, you don't even officially exist. No one will ever remember that you did."

If Olaf had been a parent, he might just have been proud to have children this capable of such a perverse final blow. To even realize that such a thing would be devastating to what remained of his ego...it was genius.

"Now, really children," he tried, "We, we can work this out can't we?"

"No thank you." Violet said, taking the chemical they'd created and pouring over him. "We've worked it all out ourselves." And with that, she lit a match, dropped it in his lap, and with her brother and sister, left the house. The sounds of Count Olaf's agonized, despairing cries accompanied them on their way.

And if only it ended there. Any reasonable person could be satisfied with the Count being punished. If perhaps not so severely. Even to include his former henchmen as well. Sadly, the Baudelaire orphans were no longer reasonable people. And they had much work to do.

To be continued...


End file.
